


The Secret Proclivities of Percy Weasley

by sophh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Discord: Dumbledore's Armada, Howlers (Harry Potter), Humiliation kink, M/M, Percy Weasley is a little kinky, Verbal Humiliation, instance of accidental nonconsensual involvement in a kink?, tagging that just in case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:47:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29346867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophh/pseuds/sophh
Summary: Percy Weasley was having a normal, if perhaps slow, day at work. He sat in his office on the sixth level of the Ministry of Magic, desk covered in neat stacks of paper, a handsome eagle-feather quill in hand. He had just read a report detailing the number of accidents caused by the Knight Bus—the new conductor was even worse than his predecessor, apparently—and was meant to draft a resolution that would appease all interested parties.But just wait, dear reader: our hero's day is about to get alotmore interesting...
Relationships: Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood
Comments: 17
Kudos: 45
Collections: A Riddikulus Flash Competition





	The Secret Proclivities of Percy Weasley

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [RiddikulusComp](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/RiddikulusComp) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> A Howler (thing)  
> 
> 
> This story would not be what it was without the help and encouragement of my wonderful alpha, [thenewpyt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenewpyt/pseuds/thenewpyt)!
> 
> Also, many thanks to Mimi and Winky for hosting such a fun comp!

Percy Weasley was having a normal, if perhaps slow, day at work. He sat in his office on the sixth level of the Ministry of Magic, desk covered in neat stacks of paper, a handsome eagle-feather quill in hand. He had just read a report detailing the number of accidents caused by the Knight Bus—the new conductor was even worse than his predecessor, apparently—and was meant to draft a resolution that would appease all interested parties. However, Percy was not concentrating on this resolution at all. In fact, his blank parchment was rapidly absorbing a steady stream of ink as Percy stared out the fake window. 

You may be wondering, dear reader, what had distracted our hero so thoroughly. He was waiting on something—and I may as well tell you what that something was—a _letter._ But this was no ordinary letter, I'm delighted to tell you. This was a letter of a most personal nature, specifically arranged to be delivered at precisely that moment. And yet, it was late. 

And so Percy stared out the fake window at the imaginary blue sky, as if he could watch for the owl that would bring his much-anticipated letter, his ink-splattered parchment going entirely unnoticed. At one point, he reached up to adjust his glasses and ended up with a black blot on his best robes. 

Finally, at a quarter to five, a large barn owl swooped into the office. Though the Ministry had stopped using owls for interdepartmental correspondence many years ago, they were allowed for personal use so long as they didn't linger. 

Percy all but threw himself at the owl in his haste to untie the missive on its leg. At last, the communication he had been waiting for was here! He licked his chapped lips as he freed the blazing scarlet envelope—so similar in colour to the hair on his head—then sent the owl on its way with one of the treats he kept in his top desk drawer. He followed the owl to the door, which he quietly shut before returning to his desk chair. 

Despite the eagerness with which he had awaited the letter, our hero did not open it right away. He wanted to draw out the anticipation, you see, so he picked up his quill and began to tap it against the edge of his desk, succeeding only in making more ink splatters. But that didn't matter. He would clean the room thoroughly later.

The envelope, for its part, was not insentient in all of this. As soon as the owl had flown off, it had begun to behave in a most peculiar manner—it had begun to _smoke._ Even now, as Percy fidgeted, it smoldered and sparked, filling the room with a vague burning smell. 

His quill taps soon turned to foot bounces, but still, he made no effort to open the envelope. It simply wouldn't do to ruin the moment—or indeed, burn one of his fingers. After what felt like an eternity to poor Percy, the envelope finally exploded in a shower of sparks. His eyes squeezed shut as Oliver Wood's Scottish brogue filled every corner of the room. 

"SORRY THIS IS LATE, PERCE—PRACTICE RAN LATE. ANYWAY…" There was a brief pause, and then, "PERCY WEASLEY, YOU ARE BY FAR THE MOST USELESS, UNQUALIFIED NINNY TO EVER WORK AT THE MINISTRY. WHAT WERE THEY THINKING WHEN THEY HIRED YOU? YOU OUGHT TO BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF FOR EVEN APPLYING. I DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY SEE IN YOU. YOU'RE NOT EVEN FIT TO CLEAN THE FLOORS, LET ALONE HEAD AN ENTIRE DEPARTMENT. NOTHING AGAINST THE PEOPLE THAT CLEAN THE FLOORS, THOUGH! I MEAN, ERM...I RECKON I SHOULD STICK TO MY SCRIPT NOW, YEAH? JUST WAIT UNTIL YOU GET HOME, PERCY. YOU'LL REALLY BE IN FOR IT THEN…"

You might think, dear reader, that such humiliating words would send our hero to the brink of despair, but you would be quite mistaken. You see, Percy had grown quite fond of Oliver's yelling over the years. 

It all began in their Hogwarts days when he and Oliver were roommates. Oliver, often wound up about Quidditch practice, would yell at various objects in the room in an attempt to purge himself of his emotions. After they began dating, Percy would attend the occasional training session and watch his boyfriend shout at his teammates, too. 

Eventually, Percy noticed that Oliver's bellowing affected him. It didn't frighten him, though—it _excited_ him. Shortly after he made that connection, he realized that he wanted Oliver to shout at _him._ He wanted to hear what a no-good, stupid person he was. After being praised for his intelligence his whole life, Percy wanted to hear something different. 

Of course, it took some time for Percy to work up the courage to tell Oliver about his desire to be humiliated. He couldn't just sit down and tell him over dinner one night. But his boyfriend could tell that he was keeping secrets. In one notable instance, he even caught Percy masturbating under the Quidditch stands. 

"What're you doing back here, Perce?" he asked. 

Percy nearly fell over trying to cover himself up. 

"N-nothing," he stammered, casting a wandless spell to clean his robes. "I just—"

"Couldn't wait to get back to our dorm, eh?" Oliver's eyes glinted knowingly. 

Percy played along, but he stopped attending Quidditch practices after that. Every time Oliver asked, he said that he had too much work to do—even when he didn't. His boyfriend got the hint after a few weeks and stopped inviting him at all. 

The day that he confessed his unusual interest, Percy was prepared for Oliver to denounce him and walk away from their relationship. He didn't expect his boyfriend to understand—let alone embrace—his urges. And yet, for some reason, he did. 

In fact, dear reader, it had been _Oliver's_ idea to send the Howlers to Percy's office. Percy protested at first, but he soon realized that a few sound-dampening spells and a perfectly crafted schedule would minimize the risk that his colleagues discovered his secret. As long as Oliver sent the Howler at the agreed-upon time, all was well. 

However, you might recall that on this particular day, the owl was late. No sooner had Percy reached into his robes to relieve the growing pressure in his cock when his father burst into the room. 

Percy immediately withdrew his hand and looked around for his wand. 

His father frowned. "What is that smell?" His eyes fell on the charred remains of the Howler that lay on the desk. "Is that—"

"Oh, er, that's nothing," Percy said. He banished it with a flick of his wand, then settled back into his chair with a barely discernible sigh. 

"It looked like a Howler. Percy, is there anything you want to tell me?" 

Percy gritted his teeth as his erection rapidly deflated. "No, there isn't—"

"—because if people are giving you a hard time about your work, you can't let them—"

The irony of his father using the phrase _"hard time"_ was not lost on our hero, I can assure you. 

"Why are you here, Dad?" Percy felt guilty for interrupting, but he needed to get the man out of his office in order to compose himself. 

His father gave him a funny look before reminding him that they were due to testify at a hearing. Percy recalled the situation now: a witch had enchanted her vacuum cleaner and ridden it in clear view of Muggles. 

Percy stifled a groan, then followed his father out of the office and down the hallway to the lifts. 

"Who was the Howler from, anyway?" his father wanted to know. He stepped inside an open lift and pressed the button for Level 2. 

Later, Percy would curse himself for the automatic response he gave, and his only explanation was that he was thinking with something _other than_ his brain: "Oliver." 

_"Oliver?"_ His father was unable to hide his shock. "But...I thought you two were happy together. I can't believe he would send you a Howler at work. Perhaps I ought to have a word with him? I know your mother wouldn't hesitate to do so—"

"No, please don't," Percy said hastily, willing the lift to move faster than a melting glacier. "We're fine, Dad, really. We just had a... misunderstanding. You know how it is." 

He winced as his father's hand came crashing down onto his shoulder in a sympathetic pat. The sooner he got to the hearing, the better. 

But I'm afraid to say that the hearing did not go well for Percy—not well at all. He was usually so focused, so _careful,_ but Oliver's Howler seemed to have driven every rational thought from his mind. He had to ask for questions to be repeated, and at one point he even answered an inquiry that was meant for someone else, causing all heads in the room to turn towards him. 

This humiliation was nothing like the consensual kind he engaged in with Oliver, and it left him feeling exposed. 

As soon as the hearing was adjourned, Percy leapt to his feet and hurried from the room. Thankfully, his father had been pulled into conversation with one of the Wizengamot members, and he made it to the lift without anyone joining him. 

Back in his office, he quickly cleaned up the room and draped his cloak around his shoulders. Just as he was preparing to leave, however, Beatrice came in. 

Beatrice was the little wizened witch who worked in the office next to his. She was probably old enough to be his great-grandmother, but he didn't dare ask her age. He wasn't even sure what sort of work she did for the Ministry, but figured she had been there for so long that no one had the heart to tell her to leave. 

Now, Percy wasn't particularly fond of Beatrice, but he tried his best to be polite to her. So when she grabbed his arm and pulled him down to her level, he didn't tell her to sod off. 

"That was some Howler you received earlier, young man." 

Percy felt the tips of his ears burn. "You must be mistaken—"

"You should really double-check your spells next time, dear, I think you missed one. Oh, and if your paramour is interested in giving my husband some tips, let me know." She gave him a wink and sashayed out the door, leaving Percy to stare after her, open-mouthed. 

Our hero eventually found the wherewithal to gather up his belongings and Floo back to the flat that he and Oliver shared. 

"How was your day, Perce?" Oliver asked, looking up from an issue of _Quidditch Weekly._ He gave Percy a sly wink. "Did you like my Howler?" 

Percy blushed. "I did. Next time practice runs over, though, you should check with me before sending one. My dad walked in just as I was about to—" 

Oliver burst out laughing. "Your _dad?_ Oh, that's priceless!" 

Percy folded his arms and waited for his boyfriend's giggles to subside. It took a few minutes for Oliver to compose himself, but when he finally did, Percy said, "That's not even the half of it. However, if you're quite finished laughing at my misfortune, perhaps we can finish what your Howler started." 

It wasn't at all like him to be so forward, but as you might remember, he'd just had a very trying day. 

Oliver stood and grabbed Percy's hand before pulling him towards the bedroom. I am sure, dear reader, that you can surmise what happened next. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this doesn't come across as kink-shaming/making fun of a kink. That was not my intention, but impact > intent, always, so feel free to leave any honest feedback you might have about that. The humor is meant to be in the character choice and situations our hero finds himself in.
> 
> I know the Howler message is probably terribly written but I didn't have much time to figure that part out.


End file.
